The suggestion to practice smiling came from a friend who specializes in media training. As a marketing consultant who frequently engages in public speaking, I had largely overcome my initial anxiety. However, recent events had started to shake my confidence again. When I sought my friend’s guidance, she concluded our first session with the remark, “You really need to smile more.”
Although I had heard this advice countless times before, it struck a nerve. During my youth in Los Angeles, I found the requests to smile from strangers to be more irksome than the more overtly sexual comments. When I heard “C’mon, show us a smile,” it felt like an accusation, as if they were saying, “I see your true self—the unhappy one.”
Even in my carefully curated outfit, I believed I was projecting confidence, but those passing men burst that bubble. I felt as if sugary gum was plastered on my face, revealing my discontent. Their call-outs betrayed my secret: I wasn’t genuinely happy.
My reasons for unhappiness were not particularly deep—just typical adolescent struggles. I often compared my life to others, noting the stark differences: an alcoholic father versus a stable family life, or my red hair and pale skin in a beach town where the popular girls were blond and tanned. But I later realized that everyone carries their own burdens. My teenage years revolved around concealing my insecurities. When someone shouted “Smile,” I interpreted it as “There’s something wrong with you, and everyone can see it.”
This perception was mine alone—not the perspective of the catcallers. I believed that if I could just identify and fix my flaws, I would be able to smile freely. It wasn’t until I navigated college, moved to New York City, landed my dream job only to lose it, and faced personal struggles that I began to embrace who I was. By the time I reached 27, I understood that my perceived flaws, like my fiery red hair, were part of my identity. My sensitivity, once a source of shame, became a strength—enabling me to empathize with others, which has been invaluable in my career as a writer and strategist.
Yet, when my media trainer urged me to smile more, all those insecurities resurfaced. I questioned whether I was merely masking my true self with a smile, just as I had always suspected men wanted me to do. However, she clarified her intent: “You know your material. A smile will engage your audience and bring them in.” She cited research showing that smiling can elevate your mood. “Practicing smiling will help you feel more relaxed, even when you’re fatigued,” she advised.
While I continue to work on making smiling a habit, I’ve observed that simply lifting the corners of my mouth helps release tension in my shoulders. The relationship between happiness and smiling is cyclical; smiling can boost your spirits, which is likely why practitioners like Tara Brach incorporate smiling into their guided meditations. In one of her sessions, she encourages participants to “smile into the eyes, feel a slight smile on the lips, and visualize a smile spreading through the heart—not to cover anything but to create space for what’s present.”
Creating space for oneself has been a long journey. Now, when I address an audience, my smile transforms the experience. I shift from feeling like I’m performing to genuinely sharing my knowledge. Walking down the street, I embrace my presence—the curves of my body no longer warrant a glance in reflective surfaces for validation.
Recently, while heading to a meeting in New York City, I navigated around a puddle in my high heels when a young man called out, “Hey, Beautiful.” He seemed captivated by my confident demeanor as I passed by, a subtle smile on my lips. With over 40 years behind me, I’ve realized that I’m not the invisible woman society expects me to be. But that smile? It was for me.
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In summary, embracing the act of smiling has empowered me to shed past insecurities and present my authentic self to the world.